


Catch the sun before it's gone 1/?

by Abi_Sapien



Series: Catch the sun before it's gone [1]
Category: MMFR, Mad Max Fury road, Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Bloodshed, Gen, M/M, Violence, emotionally constipated war boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4696886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abi_Sapien/pseuds/Abi_Sapien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chapter 1: where dreams, pieces of machinery and one nose are almost shattered.</p><p>This is what could be a series of short stories about Slit and Nux (pre the events in Fury Road), presented not necessarily in logical order.<br/>Not a literary masterpiece, far from it: I've tossed all character study, world building and emotional buildup overboard in favor of complete shameless smut (But an attempt to get into the heads of two young persons who live in a very unstable and emotionally effed-up society was made).<br/>Unbeta-ed, not spell-checked, so I apologize for any mistakes (they're all mine). </p><p>Thank you, George Miller, for the amazing world and characters of the Fury Road. I kidnapped them and ran straight to the gutter. I'm very, very sorry for everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch the sun before it's gone 1/?

” I want to be an imperator and drive a War Rig,” Nux says gleefully. ” That's what I want. I want to drive the War Rig into battle!”  
Slit throws him a sideways glance that burns like the desert wind; nothing new there, but his snappy comeback takes a long while to form. Long enough for Nux to turn and actually look at Slit, who is mauling a piece of transmission with a spanner.

” You'll never be an imperator,” Slit finally snorts.  
Nux actually cocks his head at this and wrinkles his brow, his lopsided grin not fading away though. He's still waiting for the zinger. 

” Yeah, well, you'll never be a Blackthumb because you stink at – whatever you're doing to that transmission box. Give that to me before you ruin it, staple-face.” Nux reaches for the gadget and Slit hunkers down protectively over his handiwork.  
” Come on, you mudfinger! You're doing crap work with it!”

Nux slips his hand over Slit's shoulder and grabs the gadget, but Slit is not giving up without a fight. He tries to hammer Nux's fingers with his spanner, and suddenly Nux feels a surge of anger, like someone lit a can of nitro inside his stomach. Slit was this close to breaking off a cog from a cogwheel with his stupid and irresponsible messing about with the tool. Nux couldn't care less about his fingers – if they bled, or broke, they'd heal eventually. If a piece of machinery was smashed to pieces, they'd need to find, scavenge and fit a new piece, and breaking machinery just for the hell of it was just – blasphemous. 

” Respect the Machine!” Nux spits, and is already holding Slit in a chokehold, and Slit bulldozing the both of them backward and simultaneously trying to throw him over his shoulder. At least he drops the bloody spanner. Slit throws a punch over his shoulder, aiming Nux in the face, but Nux manages to dodge the flying fist and grab Slit's arm and wrestle him to the ground. Slit is thrashing like a shot motor off it's fixtures.

” Fuck you and your black thumb!” Slit snaps.  
” Fuck you and your blasphemy!” Nux shouts back at Slit's face. Slit surprises him with elbowing him to the ribs hard enough to make air escape from his lungs and almost fold in two. It's enough for Slit to pull away from the momentarily weakened chokehold and roll around and lunge at Nux. Nux has to cough, he has to get air into his lungs, but there's no time, Slit is not play-wrestling, he is coming for his jugular.

Nux's eyes are full of tears and he coughs-coughs-coughs, and his ribs feel like they're trying to strangle his chest, and he has to hold one hand over the spot where Slit's elbow made impact and will air into his burning lungs. He's barely on his knees when Slit jumps at him, and Nux bites his teeth together, braces for impact and swerves his body just enough to escape Slit's whole body landing on him and instead slamming Slit right in the face with his elbow. Or more like, Slit charges, face first, at his elbow. The impact is hard, sending a painful tremor right down his arm and into his shoulder. Nux topples backwards, almost falls flat on his back, momentarily worried that if he fell, he would be completely defensless, if the blow to the face wasn't enough to stop furious Slit on his tracks.

Slit staggers backwards also, his hands on his face, blood already trickling from between his fingers clutched over his nose and mouth. Nux doesn't want to look at his elbow, actually fearing to see couple of Slit's teeth embedded in his skin. He barks a laugh between fits of coughing, still fighting to get his lungs to work properly as he scrambles up to his feet. The fight is most definitely over. He looks at his elbow apprehensively – nothing mangled there, but it will be sore later. So sore.

The nitro-burn of the rage is suddenly completely gone, and the stings of mild pain puncture the fading red haze inside Nux's head. 

He looks at Slit, who's flopped down on a upside-down box and is breathing heavily and thickly through his hands still plastered over his face, eyes screwed shut and grotesque bloodspatters staining his white chest and arms. Nux knows that bleeding always makes things look a lot worse than they really are. It does (and it better do because this looks sod-awful). Even some of the other boys have stopped their tinkering and are stretching their necks to see what is going on. Ready to jump in before anyone got badly beaten or killed. A standard procedure between all brothers – don't hurt your own, at least not too badly. Nux explores his pockets to find rags and ambles over to Slit, confident in his apparent victory but still knowing his lancer well enough to be wary. Slit's temper is know to be vile and bloodshed (especially if it's his own) makes his motor run high and hot.

Slit doesn't even open his eyes when Nux reaches him. He keeps his head tilted back and holds his face.

” Don't do that or you'll be puking blood soon,” Nux offers and nudges the back of Slit's head. 

Slit opens his good eye a slice and glares. The dark blue-green iris (the colour of the sky at night when there's going to be a huge storm in the morning), pupil a black hole in the middle. Slowly leans forwards anyhow, putting his elbows against his knees. The falling drops of blood pitter-patter an erratic tattoo on the dusty floor. Nux offers the rag. Slit yanks it off his hand, his hand painted browning red, blood caking darker in the creases of his fingers. Holds the rag against his face. Nux suspects he broke his nose and it makes him cringe a little.

” Let me see,” he says. This time Slit opens both of his eyes and it looks like he wants to kill Nux. His eyes are daggers, aimed at Nux's face. Nux decides not to take it personally. ” Let me look,” he repeats, holding out his open palm. Slit gives him a rude gesture with his free (equally blood-stained) hand but leans back an inch. Nux takes that as a permission to approach. If his nose is broken the cracked bone needs to be put back into it's place before everything swells too much. This much Nux knows (he needs to know some of this because in the War, there is only one Organic Mechanic and hundreds of Nux's brothers, and there are things you just need to know).

Slit wipes the cloth slowly and spitefully across his face. His face seems to be a bloody mess. His mouth is a dark red line, the blood has clotted in the harsh grooves of his scars and it's hard to tell where it all really came from. Until it starts to seep again, and yes, it's coming from his nostrils. Nux stares fascinated at the tarry red streams, starting to ooze down over Slit's swelling upper lip again. He fits his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of Slit's nose and nudges, and Slit curses heartily, spattering blood all over Nux's chest. Nux lifts his eyebrows in surprise and nudges again to be sure. This time Slit just bares his bloodied teeth and hisses.

” It's not broken!”  
Nux tilts his head and offers Slit a small grin, but Slit is not in the mood. He keeps glaring at Nux with something very dark pooling into his eyes. 

The other boys are returning to their work, their curiosity sated and peace between brothers once again resumed, and the noise and chattering resumes to it's normal level. Nothing big, just a bit of a scuffle, a bit of bloodshed, not even any broken bones.

Nux grabs another wad of rag laying about and pours water on it to wet it thoroughly. He makes a move to help Slit wipe his face, but Slit doesn't agree with Nux's apparent plan and slaps his hand away, leaving a smear of bloody fingerprints on Nux's pale wrist. He grabs the wet rag though and starts to clean himself with angry, angular movements.

” I respect the Machine,” he says defensively, his voice even more hoarse and stuffy than usually.

” I believe you, brother.”  
Nux nods his head to emphasize his words. He does believe Slit. He is as devouted as anyone else and perhaps it was wrong to doubt him. What is done, is done, though. No reverse gear to make the sun move backwards across the sky and drag time with it. Slit wipes at his neck and chest and stares at Nux like he was preparing to lance him any moment now.

” I was trying to break your fingers. Not the machine.”  
” I know, but you could have broken the cogwheel. Stop fucking around with important things, Slit!”  
Slit presses the wet, red-stained rag against his nose still drizzling blood. Nux narrows his eyes at him.  
” Who keeps our car running if you ruin my hand? You sure as blazes can't do it.” 

There is a silence between them. Nux decides it's safe enough to turn his back to Slit and bends down to finally picks up the piece of the broken transmission and cradles it like a small pup in the crook of his arm until he finds a spot where to carefully settle it. When he turns back, Slit has finished cleaning himself up, having done a poor job. He is covered in patchy war-paint and smeared blood, but it'll do until bath - and his nose has apparently finally stopped bleeding. He tries not to sniffle as he breathes but he obviously still can't get any air in through his nostrils. He folds the bloody rags slowly and uncharacteristically neatly over his knee.

” Just - stop fucking around with things that are important,” Nux starts but before he can finish his sentence properly, Slit opens his mouth.  
” You'll never be an imperator, ” he says, matter-of-factly.  
Nux groans and slaps both of his hands on his temples, desperately crossing his fingers over his forehead. This conversation again!  
” Walhalla, have mercy! Why not?”  
” Because you cough at night!” Slit pounces on his feet and the neatly stacked rags fall on the floor and get trampled over by Slit's heavy boots.  
” You lose your breath over a small poke on the ribs! You – you cough. And what are these?”

Slit pokes at the curve between Nux's neck and shoulder, and Nux recoils from the touch because he has been sore there for some time. Not long, but for a while. Even Nux can feel that whatever Slit's fingers poke at under his skin, should not really be there. He just drops his hand protectively over the spot, over the two small, hardly noticeable lumps on the joint of his left shoulder and neck. But the realization dawns, it opens like a giant trapdoor to cold and unfathomable depths, ready to swallow him whole.

Nux doesn't say anything. Looks at Slit with angry, hurt eyes. Hurt. Slit wants to laugh at his face. 

They are half-life. This is all they can expect from their life, if the War doesn't take them first. They pray that the War takes them first! Nux is going to need to go to a battle very soon if he wants a glorious death. Slit has seen enough to know. When the lumps appear, it's downhill from there. They make light of it, but he's the one who is awake at nights and listens to his driver coughing his lungs out. Sometimes he feels like smothering Nux. When he's real tired and real pissed off. And he dreams of becoming an Imperator. How many imperators has Nux seen, with those lumps on their bodies? Little fool.

Slit's whole face feels like it has been used as a brake disk. Whatever Nux is or is becoming, he can still pack a wallop. Not for long though. How long until they fit him with his very own blood brace?

These are the thoughts that rattle like pebbles inside his skull all day and all night. Fucking ace job he did, picking Nux as his driver. He seemed so lively. Almost a head taller than everyone else, all lanky, improbably long limbs and a motor mouth. Giving Slit a run for his guzzolene. Fun to be around. Enough spunk in him for a small scuffle here and there. Not a mediocre driver, at all. Fast and fearless and didn't lose his head in a battle; like nitro running in his veins instead of blood. Mate, a fucking mate, Nux. His mate.

His nose is clogged shut and he has to breathe through his mouth like a mutt. His eyes are still stinging, especially the shot one, the one he can only see vague shapes with. But he's still a bloody shine lancer, bad eye or not. A fucking appalling Blackthumb though. Fuck. Who was going to keep keep their car running if Nux couldn't? Slit couldn't imagine Nux letting any of the wretched pups near their precious vehicle. He'd really need to up his game if. If.

Slit looks at Nux, who is still hiding, whatever he thinks he is hiding, on the side of his neck, with his hand. 

He wants to scoff and shake his head, but his face hurts too much to bother. Nux looks very tall, and very pale, even under his war-paint. His big, sliver-of-the-morning-sky-eyes stare into nothingness. If there's one thing Slit would want to punch out of his head, if he ever could, it would be his embarrassingly mediocre need to wax poetic about Nux's eyes. Nux's eyes, clear and blue and shine as the sky. Fuck, but Slit loved the open sky over the desert. 

Slit also likes it when he gets to stare without Nux noticing. But not now. He's still pissed off, yes, but Nux's stillness is starting to creep him out a little.

” Oi. Puppy.”

Nux shifts, warily, his eyes dart and focus on Slit. He drops his hand almost defiantly.

” Show me how it's done proper, then. Just to get you off my fucking back.”

Slit nods his head lightly towards the gearbox, carefully put aside.  
Nux moves a bit stiffly, still, but he's already speading the tools they're going to need, around the working station. Long, skinny back hunching over the table. A big, dark bruise forming on his left side where Slit's elbow jabbed him. Slit could have sworn he didn't mean to hit that hard. The already thunder-blue bruise tells otherwise. Or an another story completely.

” With my deeds I shall honour him, V8,” Nux mumbles. ” Just to get you off my fucking back.”  
” V8,” Slit replies reverently, his voice threatening to dry into his throat.


End file.
